


Minus Even

by Twigo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twigo/pseuds/Twigo
Summary: AU. Ludwig loves Gilbert to death, but Gilbert is the worst. Cool, tough Gilbert always tries to protect his quiet little brother, and has run off every boyfriend Ludwig has ever had. Ludwig, wanting to keep his newest man very much, decides that the only way to get Gilbert off of his back is to get Gilbert his own man. That guy in the library is pretty handsome. RusGer PruLiet
Relationships: Germany/Russia (Hetalia), Lithuania/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Minus Even

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings! : AU. Human characters. One-shot. Language. RusGer, PruLiet. Matchmaker!Germany. Mentions of Italy, Denmark, Sweden, and Netherlands as ghosts of boyfriends past. That's all.

**MINUS EVEN**

Gilbert was a nightmare.

An honest to god living nightmare, dreamt up one night and then unleashed upon the world. Had crawled right up out of hell to torment everyone and everything around him, had been conjured up by some idiot with a Ouija board.

That was how Ludwig felt, anyway, every time Gilbert scared off Ludwig's tentative love interests.

Loved Gilbert so much, but Gilbert made him _miserable_ at times.

They were so similar, and yet couldn't possibly be more different.

Gilbert was, after all, the epitome of cool. Tall, strong, confident, arrogant, bold, handsome, popular and charming and assertive. A rule-breaker, and a heart-breaker. Gilbert was loud, vociferous. Always running after what he wanted and very easily able to attain it with seemingly no effort. Gilbert felt as if he owned the world, and therefore the world seemed to come so easily to him. To add to all of that, Gilbert was a bit of a star in the city, playing for the city's football team and a very successful striker. Number 13. Was Preußen Münster's pride and joy. Yeah, that figured. Lucky 13, as it was.

Kinda unfair.

Ludwig was the considerably un-cool one. The quiet sibling. The nerdy one, who kept to himself and studied dutifully and did everything he was told to do. He wasn't a grand sports star; he worked in the local library, where it was as calm and quiet as he was. He hid in corners during Gilbert's parties and little news talks. He lurked in shadows as people flocked over to Gilbert. When they went to the gym together, Ludwig hid himself far in the back corner as Gilbert asserted his dominance in the middle of the room in various ways. He was taller than Gilbert by a bit, but Gilbert always seemed to loom over Ludwig all the same.

How odd they were when they walked together.

Gilbert, so talkative and sure, arm slung over Ludwig's shoulder, as Ludwig walked quietly beside of him, avoiding eye contact with everyone and barely uttering a word. The football champ and the nerd. What a pair they made.

Ludwig was proud of Gilbert, for sure, but at times envied him. Wished he could be like that, and had always tried. He had given it his all, but it just wasn't meant to be. Didn't have that spark in him that Gilbert had, and after a while had stopped trying to imitate him.

Gilbert had tried for a long while to turn Ludwig into his carbon copy, and had spent years with him in the backyard, playing football. Gilbert always outdid him, easily so, but Gilbert had ever been hopeful, and had always encouragingly said, 'You'd make a great damn keeper, Lutz!'

Gilbert's way of saying that Ludwig wasn't ever going to be a striker like him, nor a winger. But Ludwig wasn't quite tall enough to be a keeper, in his own personal opinion, and just lacked the passion Gilbert had. Stopped playing, after a while, because Gilbert overshadowed him and Ludwig preferred quieter activities. Gilbert practiced in the yard, as Ludwig stayed inside and read various books about science.

Gilbert teased him frequently, but always lovingly, so ready to accept whatever odd interest Ludwig happened to be holding at any given time.

Gilbert should, by all rights, have been the perfect older brother.

One big problem, though.

Gilbert's grand flaw, in Ludwig's eyes, was his possessiveness.

That suffocating protectiveness that radiated off of Gilbert whenever they were together was far beyond overwhelming. Gilbert took brotherly love a little too far, and seemed to consider himself some sort of righteous sentinel. Ludwig was flattered that Gilbert loved him so, yeah, but damn if it wasn't stifling. Gilbert couldn't stand anyone even looking at Ludwig, and maybe that was Ludwig's fault in a way for being so quiet and withdrawn. If he were more assertive, maybe Gilbert would have let him breathe a little more. Gilbert seemed to think that Ludwig needed constant supervision and constant protection. That Ludwig had long since admitted his interest in men likely didn't help any.

Gilbert treated Ludwig quite like a damsel in distress, and when they crossed the street Gilbert actually shoved his hand in Ludwig's chest to stop him from theoretically walking into oncoming traffic, and then he looked both ways before dragging Ludwig along. Ordered for him when they went out to bars or restaurants. Often walked with his hand on the back of Ludwig's arm.

And, above all else, Gilbert was hyper-protective when it came to anyone showing Ludwig any romantic interest. Was ready to throw down and tear the world apart every time he noticed anyone noticing Ludwig.

Men had glanced at Ludwig entirely by accident and had wound up in Gilbert's warpath.

Ludwig had a sad little blacklist of vanished boyfriends.

Some of them didn't even make it long enough to become boyfriends, run off after the first date.

It wasn't really Gilbert's fault. Just the way he was. Had always been that way, since before Ludwig could remember, and after their parents died and Gilbert had taken over the role of head of household, it had just gotten so much worse. It wasn't intentional on Gilbert's part. Just something he couldn't really help.

Ludwig's excuses for Gilbert were usually endless, at any rate, but that didn't make it hurt any less every time Gilbert scared away someone that Ludwig had wanted to be with. Every time, Ludwig's spirits sank a little more, and he was certain that he was always going to be alone, miserable and solitary, because Gilbert just didn't think anyone was ever going to be good enough.

What was Gilbert even looking for? Didn't he understand that Ludwig was a bit of a social outcast and any attention at all was great attention?

First there had been Feliciano.

He had met Feliciano in a café, and they had hit it off. Had clicked, it seemed, and Feliciano had asked him very quickly on a date, as assertive and confident as Gilbert was.

Ludwig had been happy, so elated that there was someone out there that wanted to be with him, only him, someone he could talk to and be around and not feel so self-conscious. He liked being with Feliciano, enjoyed someone showering him with affection, and they had been going quite steady for two months before Gilbert had finally found out about them.

Gilbert had seen Feliciano kiss his cheek as they said goodbye one night, and it was as if someone had opened up the gates of hell, because suddenly Gilbert had become a demon. He had barged forward, grabbed Ludwig's wrist and wrenched him back, and then he had shoved Feliciano's chest, shrieking at him so furiously that his voice had cracked. Feliciano had given a valiant effort to scream right back at Gilbert, but no one out-screamed Gilbert, and eventually Feliciano had stalked off in a rage.

He called Ludwig the next day, and said, 'I'm sorry! But I just can't. I like you _so_ much, you don't know, but I can't handle that brother of yours. I'm sorry.'

Devastation.

Then came Magnus.

Had bumped into Magnus in the street, literally, because Magnus had been texting and walking. He had dropped his phone, angrily cursed, and Ludwig had knelt down at the same time to helpfully grab it. They grabbed each other's hand instead, and that had been it, because, like Feliciano before him, Magnus was bold and assertive and knew no shame.

Blindingly handsome, Magnus, and Ludwig had been struck by him. The most handsome man he had met in person.

The next thing Ludwig knew, they were sitting in a bar and Magnus' hand was always reaching out to rest on his back, and when he leaned in to speak to Ludwig, their cheeks bumped.

After that, Ludwig found himself in the backseat of Magnus' car, and they weren't driving. It wasn't like Feliciano's affectionate and romantic dates, for sure, but the feel of leather and the scent of Magnus' cologne, the windows fogged up and being damp with sweat in the summer air—it was a different kind of romance, and Ludwig loved it just as much.

They went on a few dates, each ending in similar fashion, and Ludwig had been rather happy. Knew now to keep any relationship perfectly secret, but he wasn't clever enough sometimes, and living with Gilbert made it too easy for Gilbert to know when he was up to something.

They went to the theatre, and of course Magnus was the type of man who liked to sit in the very back row so that he could shove his tongue down Ludwig's throat with no problems. Ludwig had pressed his luck that time, though, and stayed out too late.

Gilbert had been waiting for him to come home that night, and had come raging outside as soon as Ludwig was in sight, the door slamming against the house from the force of Gilbert's fury. Ludwig had stood still in panic as Gilbert stomped forward, screaming and shrieking and aggressively gesturing.

Unlike Feliciano, Magnus had thrown his hands in the air with a scoff and a lift of his chin, sneering at Gilbert, and had just walked off.

Ludwig never heard from him again.

Magnus was handsome, after all, a player likely, and certainly wasn't going to put up with any unneeded obstacles when he had countless people flinging themselves at him.

Hurt.

Afterwards came Berwald.

Berwald had come into the library, holding in his hand a list of books his grandmother had asked for. Ludwig had been happy to help him find them, and Berwald had been very happy to just stare at Ludwig the entire while he gathered the books. Stared and stared and stared, until Ludwig had nervously looked away, and then Berwald had asked, so randomly, 'Hey—you single?'

Well! Like those before him, Berwald wasted no time. Ludwig had instantly nodded, too quickly perhaps, because Berwald was a good bit older than he was but was exactly his type, and Ludwig was very, painfully single. Anyway, there were odder couples, surely. Berwald was thirty-one, and Ludwig was eighteen—it was unusual, maybe, but certainly nothing he considered outrageous.

Unlike those before him, Berwald was much less charming, not as loud and arrogant. He wasn't glamorous in his dates like Feliciano, wasn't dragging him into the backseat of a car on the first day they met like Magnus, but Berwald was remarkably endearing in his own right. Was certainly heavy-handed, had no shame about putting his hand constantly on Ludwig, and didn't ask permission at all before he kissed Ludwig after that first date.

Berwald was calm and sweet. Quiet, silently strong. Very authoritative and commanding without even saying a word. Gentle in his mannerisms, despite his intimidating stature and air.

Up to that point, Ludwig had put the most hope into Berwald, because their personalities seemed to mesh so well. Had very high hopes, and made sure a date never ran late so that Gilbert would never find out about Berwald, because Ludwig liked him so much. Berwald seemed as awkward and uncertain as Ludwig was, and that was alarmingly comforting. Didn't want to lose him, and so strove hard to keep him secret.

But Ludwig could never hide anything from Gilbert, and Ludwig didn't know how Gilbert had found out. Must have just tailed him one day, must have followed him, must have hung back in shadows to spy, because they were minding their own business in the park, sitting together on a bench, and marching up to them suddenly was Gilbert.

The hairs on Ludwig's arms had stood up in a fright, and Berwald had been very confused by Ludwig's reaction, splayed out as he was, carefree and comfortable. At least until Gilbert had reached them, grabbed Berwald's collar, and without a single word yanked Berwald up and punched him in the face.

Had cracked Berwald's glasses.

Ludwig learned that day that Gilbert was the sort of guy who _would_ hit a man with glasses.

As Berwald fell back and Ludwig leapt on Gilbert, Gilbert had started shrieking, as always, threatening Berwald and telling him to stay away from his little brother, all that blah blah. Ludwig held him back as best he could, as Berwald pulled himself to his feet and looked back and forth between them as if they had fallen from the sky.

Berwald hung in there, though, for a while. Did his damn best to carry on, to ignore Gilbert, despite the broken glasses, but then Gilbert became more vicious with his insults, started hitting far below the belt, and when Gilbert had started taking aim at Berwald's age, insinuating perhaps that something very inappropriate was going on (despite Ludwig being a very clearly legal adult), Berwald finally considered it no longer worth it.

That time, no call. Just a text, that said, 'I'm sorry. It's for the best if we don't see each other any more.'

For the first time, Ludwig had cried.

That blow was the hardest yet, because that had been his best chance. Berwald had really seemed to try, had given his all, and Ludwig had put faith into him. Had felt that he and Berwald had had such a good connection.

Gilbert, of course, always won.

Then came Abel.

They had met in the sports shop. Ludwig's jersey had started getting a little worse for wear, and lord knew that Gilbert would have been so offended, seeing his name fading off of his little brother's back, so Ludwig had gone to the shop to procure a new one.

It was kinda funny, and kinda sad, as he stared at his brother's name on a jersey; felt like such a perfectly accurate representation of his entire life, Gilbert's damn name branded there upon his back. Gilbert's property. Felt that way at times.

He must have stared at that jersey a little too long, because that was when Abel had settled in beside of him, and said, so very serenely, 'You know, there _are_ other players. If you're that torn. Superstitious? They say he's Lucky 13.'

Yeah, right. Had never brought Ludwig luck at all, brandishing that number. Only Gilbert benefited from it.

Ludwig had scoffed, looked over, and had been startled a bit, because that voice hadn't quite matched the man he saw. A big guy, very stern-looking and quite intimidating, handsome in a rugged way, and Ludwig wasn't sure if he was looking at the right man.

But then Abel had spoken again, and said, 'Or you could just find a new sport."

What an endearing voice. Deep and soothing and quite warm. Very easy-going, very friendly.

Had loved Abel's voice immediately, and Abel had leaned his head down a bit and asked, so randomly, 'You ever been mountain climbing?'

Ludwig shook his head, dumbly, and Gilbert's jersey had been very much forgotten when Abel had started blabbering out of nowhere about said mountaineering, and Ludwig hadn't exactly realized that Abel had walked him out of the shop and straight to a café.

Clever. Had whisked him on a date without actually even asking.

It seemed that Ludwig was a sucker for assertive men, fell for that arrogant charm, that domineering attitude, because it worked every time.

They may have all had that in common, but each of them had been very different, individuals with distinct personalities, and Abel was no different.

Abel was by far the most laid-back of the bunch. Feliciano had been carefree, but Abel was different. Feliciano had ignored problems and obstacles, waving his hand and pretending they didn't exist, but Abel had very clearly acknowledged them, but with absolutely no hint of worry. As if Abel could just look at any given thing and think to himself, 'It will be alright eventually.'

Admired that, pessimist that he was.

Abel was so constantly subdued, so tranquil, and somehow that was always so funny to Ludwig because Abel was so big and tough-looking, and cursed so frequently. An odd combination, but a charming one, and Ludwig loved to just press up against Abel's side and listen to him talk about his adventures climbing mountains.

Sometimes, Ludwig would laugh, because up in his head he could see men screaming and panicking as an avalanche threatened to come crashing down, and there Abel was, just hanging on to his rope and utterly unbothered as he took his time to dig his crampons in and settle in for the ride. No rush at all.

Abel would look over at Ludwig whenever he laughed, falling still, and Ludwig adored that calm smile when Abel would lean over and kiss him.

But, as it always was, Gilbert came out on top, and one day they had walked out of a café to come face to face with a fuming Gilbert.

Ludwig didn't get the chance to say anything.

Gilbert lunged forward, as was habit by now, and punched Abel across the face. Abel looked absolutely stunned, entirely caught off guard, eyes wide and mouth open. A sucker-punch, for sure. Abel came back quickly, though, and wrenched his fist forward to punch Gilbert right back. A quick brawl ensued, as Ludwig grabbed Gilbert's shirt to drag him back, and it was only when Ludwig forced Gilbert to stumble backwards that they were torn apart.

Abel's nose was bleeding and Gilbert's lip had been split.

Ludwig, above all else, had been shocked by Abel's reaction. Had never anticipated the most mellow man he had ever met to actually be the one to finally try to put Gilbert in place.

Just made him want to hold on to that all the more.

They huffed and screamed, and Gilbert tried to lunge again but was held back by Ludwig. Abel turned away and walked off, cursing to himself. Ludwig watched him go, and felt that familiar dread. He let Gilbert go when Abel was out of sight, and then Ludwig said to Gilbert, for the very first time in his life, 'I hate you.'

Gilbert's look of hurt.

Ludwig stomped off, Gilbert chased after him, and Ludwig lied down in bed and stared at the wall as Gilbert hung outside of his door and apologized through the wood, locked out.

To date, though, Abel was the only one that had ever punched Gilbert back, and that had given Ludwig so much hope, so much, and he had twisted and turned all night and waited for a call, a text, anything.

But when he finally got a call, two days later, Abel's voice was low and rough. Tired.

All he said was, 'I'm sorry. Listen. I just—'

Ludwig knew the drill by then, and said, before Abel could finish, 'You can't take my crazy brother. I get it. I know. I'm sorry.'

A long silence, and then a mournful whisper.

'I'm so sorry. You're great, but... It's not _you_ , you know?'

Wasn't it, though, in the end?

Ludwig was a pessimist by nature, and all he ever really heard during the goodbye was, 'I like you a lot, but not enough to bother fighting for you. Sorry.'

They all tried valiantly, and were all run off regardless. No one could put up with Gilbert in the end, because Ludwig just wasn't worth the turmoil. His confidence took a massive blow each time, his self-worth, and Gilbert was ever oblivious to Ludwig's hurt.

And each time, when Ludwig fought off tears, Gilbert would just grab him around the shoulders, pull him in, and say, 'See! He ran out on ya, so he wasn't good enough!'

That wasn't _right_.

Then Ivan came, and Ludwig fell hard and fast.

Like Berwald, Ivan had come into the library one day. Ludwig had been behind the desk that day, checking people out, and he had spied Ivan as he had glanced up. Had caught Ludwig's eye instantly, and not only because he was a new face. Ivan was huge, the biggest man Ludwig had ever seen, and so naturally he rather stood out a bit. Beyond that, Ivan just didn't look like anyone else that Ludwig was used to, in his facial structure. Knew a Slavic nose when he saw one, and that was uncommon around here.

Ivan had wandered around the library for a while, collecting a few books here and there, and Ludwig had just glanced at him frequently in between checking patrons out.

When Ivan finally came up to the desk to check out his books, he saw Ludwig, set the books down, crossed his arms atop the counter and leaned forward, and had said, simply, 'Hi!'

A very charming smile, lopsided, grey eyes and pale blond hair, nose crooked and sharp, stubble on his cheeks and brow lofty. Those heavy, lidded eyes that were as Slavic as his nose. Looked very confident in himself, Ivan, had been very assertive from the beginning, as all the others had been. Whereas Magnus had been so confident in himself because he was so gorgeous, Ivan was confident in himself because he was physically impressive.

...very impressive.

Was already huge in stature, so tall and broad, but Ivan was very powerful, very muscular, was clearly some sort of weightlifter or whatnot, and Ludwig had been very impressed indeed. Had really hoped his face wasn't red, as Ivan leaned over the counter like that, eyeing him up and down.

Ludwig finally managed to squeak back, 'Hi there! May I see your library card?'

'I don't have one,' Ivan had said, voice very soft and rather pretty. 'I just moved here from Berlin. I guess you can help me with that.'

Ivan had an accent, but hardly perceivable, and spoke as well as a native, more or less.

Ludwig had tried very hard to suppress his dumb smile, lips a bit pursed and certainly jittery as he had started typing away, sliding Ivan the appropriate form. Oh, man! Had he ever been looking forward to seeing _this_ one again.

Not every day, after all, that one saw a man like that.

And when Ivan filled out his little form and shoved it back across the desk, Ludwig typing the information in, Ludwig kept glancing up and up, and Ivan was still staring at him. When Ludwig scanned the card and handed it over to Ivan, Ivan's fingers brushed against his own.

Ludwig realized shortly after that he had been unable to suppress his emotion at all and had been smiling idiotically for the past five minutes.

Ivan gathered up his books, looked Ludwig up and down one final time, and then walked out.

That had been the first time that he hadn't been asked on a date during the first meeting, and Ludwig had been a bit disappointed by that.

Until Ivan had come back the very next day, books in hand and walking up to the counter in more of a swagger. He set the books down, Ludwig looked up at him, and Ludwig was so nervous that he said, 'Finished already? Wow. Speed-reader, are we?'

Ivan had held Ludwig's gaze, very intensely, and had replied, with absolute seriousness, 'No. I didn't read them at all. I just couldn't focus. I had to bring them back.'

Ludwig had tilted his head, and replied, 'You have two weeks, you know?'

Ivan had leaned over the counter, face so stern and not flinching at all, and had said, in perfect monotone, 'There's no point. I can't stop thinking about you. Why bother? Take them back. You've already taken everything else from me. My heart in particular.'

Ludwig had stood still in shock, as the ridiculous words sank in, and then he blazed so furiously red that it was actually painful, he gave an odd, strangled gasp, and his hand flew up to his mouth. Just stared at Ivan from above his palm, eyes wide and heart hammering, and Ivan just looked so deadly serious that Ludwig had given a mortified giggle.

Had been unable to compose himself, shamefully, and was glad that no one he knew was there to see it.

After Ivan had apparently been satisfied with Ludwig's pitiful squirming and writhing, he finally asked, 'Maybe I can check you out of here instead? Tonight?'

Had this guy hit on librarians all of his life or what?

Didn't care at all, because Ludwig had placed his palms on the counter, forced his throat to unclench, blinked very rapidly, and said, very gruffly, 'Yeah— Uh. Okay. Sure. Okay. Why not? I, uh— I get off at four, I can—'

Ivan had interrupted him, saying, ever yet serious, 'Good. I'll be here at four to walk you out. See you then.'

With that, Ivan had turned on his heel and strutted out of the building, strides very wide and arms swinging, and Ludwig had watched him go in a daze.

And well, what could he say?

He had fallen for that arrogant jerk the very moment Ivan had spoken to him, and when four had come around Ludwig had been bouncing on his heels in anticipation. Ivan was as good as his word, and showed up at the door, extending his arm quite chivalrously and leading Ludwig along.

Had gotten bad Gilbert knight-wannabe vibes, but damn if Ivan wasn't charming.

Ivan, like Berwald, was a good bit older than he was. Not quite as much. Ivan was twenty-eight, and Ludwig already heard Gilbert's mouth up in his head.

Tried not to think of it.

Ivan's idea of a date had consisted of walking Ludwig straight to his house, sitting on the couch with him for hours, talking and talking, and steadily creeping closer and closer the entire while. Didn't even notice, it was so subtle, until Ivan's very heavy arm was resting atop his shoulders.

And how he had gone from that to pinned under Ivan on the couch he couldn't say, but didn't really care. He had learned not to waste any time, when Gilbert was always hanging over his head and ready to throw a lightning bolt.

But he liked Ivan, so much. Had liked each man he met in turn more than the last, it seemed, and Ivan had drawn him in immediately.

He fought now to keep Gilbert away from Ivan. Went to perhaps insane amounts of stealth. Wanted this one to be the one. The last one. Didn't want to keep being caught in this cycle.

Wanted Ivan.

He put timers on his watch, alarms, so that he wouldn't get too caught up in Ivan, because it was so easy when Ivan was heavy above him and nearly suffocating him with his tongue. A chirp of the watch, and Ivan would roll his eyes as Ludwig squirmed out from under him and darted off home before Gilbert was the wiser. Ivan always accepted Ludwig's oddness in good humor, though, seemed to think he was just quirky and eccentric, and that was all well and good. Would rather Ivan think he was crazy than have him run into Gilbert.

Alas! Run into Gilbert, Ivan eventually did, because Ludwig was jinxed or something.

His luck ran out, three months into being with Ivan.

Something had been miscalculated somewhere along the line, because Gilbert was supposed to still be in a training session, but when Ludwig had been walked by Ivan up to his front door, Gilbert had come barging out.

Oh, no—!

Not again.

An awful, electric stare between Gilbert and Ivan, as Ivan bristled up, reacting to Gilbert's body language alone, shoving himself a bit in front of Ludwig when he saw Ludwig's wide eyes of terror.

It was clear from the first altercation, however, that Ivan was going to be much harder to get rid of. He wasn't non-confrontational like Feliciano. Wasn't a player like Magnus. Wasn't self-conscious like Berwald. Wasn't laid-back like Abel.

Ivan was fearless, aggressive, determined, confident, and very, very strong. Gilbert was well aware of that, had found out the hard way. Had punched Ivan that night the way he had punched so many men before him, but, like Abel, Ivan had punched Gilbert back.

Hard.

It was Gilbert who had hit the ground that time, blood pouring from his nose, barely conscious and certainly dizzy as he had propped himself up on his elbows and stared up at Ivan. In a daze, Gilbert had just gawked blearily up at Ivan and grumbled thickly, through his busted nose, 'Fuckin'—you a fuckin' boxer or something, Jesus Christ, you big son of a bitch—'

To Ludwig's surprise, Ivan had lifted his chin and said, snappily, 'Yeah! I was a boxer. Thanks for asking. Get up and try again.'

Gilbert did not, in fact, get up and try again, thanks a bunch.

Gilbert had collapsed fully onto his back shortly after, no doubt seeing stars, and Ludwig had grabbed Ivan's arm and dragged him away into the shadows of the house. Ivan had been fuming, rightfully so, and when he reached up and rubbed irritably at his eye, Ludwig practically moaned, 'I'm so sorry! I'm sorry—'

'Who the hell _is_ that?' Ivan had barked, as Ludwig hung his head. 'Huh? What—that your ex or something? Did you lie? Is that your boyfriend?'

Damn. Gilbert really did act that way, and that made it more embarrassing to grumble, 'No. That's my brother. My, ah, _very_ protective brother.'

Ivan watched Gilbert's inert form thoughtfully, and scoffed, 'That's an understatement. Is he always like this?'

'...yeah.'

That awful rush of now familiar dread, anxiety. Fear. Just didn't want to relive this scenario over and over again for the rest of his miserable life.

Ivan lifted up his chin then, and said, 'Ah— I think I can see now why you were single.'

A terrifying statement, and Ludwig hadn't been able to lift his eyes up from the ground. No doubt Ivan was going to walk away any second now, washing his hands of Gilbert as quickly as all the others had. At Ludwig's miserable silence, Ivan had looked over at him, scrutinized him, and then reached out to force Ludwig's head up.

A very intense meeting of eyes.

Ivan asked, perhaps not so needlessly, 'Does he hit _you_?'

A rush of adrenaline, and Ludwig was very quick to say, 'No.'

It wasn't such an absurd question to those who saw Gilbert's rage, but couldn't be farther off the mark. Wasn't like that at all.

Ivan believed him, and let his chin go. Ludwig stared at him, waiting for Ivan's inevitable departure, and yet Ivan stood quite still for a while, and then just gave a short sigh.

Perhaps in an effort to calm Ludwig's nerves, Ivan had said, a bit casually, 'Well! They say there's one in every family, eh?'

Ludwig scoffed, and uttered, roughly, 'Is he too much for you? Everyone else has left. If you can't take it, I understand.'

Ivan had straightened up, spread out to his full size, appearing quite commanding, and his voice had been very stern and rather steely when he said, 'I'm not a Western man. I live here, but it's not how I was raised. With all due respect, Western men are weak. They give up too easily. You think I would let someone scare me off from something I want? No good Russian man would ever give up like that. The moment I took your hand, I was ready to keep it. I have my honor; I won't back down like that. I would shame myself."

Awe.

Stared at Ivan quite dumbly then, and that was the only time Ludwig could ever recall being something like star-struck.

Maybe that was when he had fallen in love with Ivan.

That was the first time Ludwig had felt honestly bolstered, had felt that sense of optimism, because it was the first time that someone had declared that Gilbert was an obstacle they would actually strive to overcome. Berwald had lasted the longest, but had never fought, had never lifted his hand, and his heart had never been in it.

Ivan being so unafraid was far beyond encouraging.

Not knowing what else to say and feeling quite up in space, Ludwig asked, out of nowhere, 'Were you really a boxer?'

'Yeah. I was. Long time ago.'

Astounding.

Ivan being a former boxer really helped Ludwig's confidence, as much as the words had. Because, with Gilbert, talk could only go so far, and action would eventually be needed.

But Gilbert sure as hell had never laid hands on Ivan again, choosing instead to verbally harass him. Ivan pertly ignored him, and Ludwig was really quite surprised because it was so clear how angry Ivan was. It was very obvious that Ivan was giving every bit of effort into not whirling around and knocking Gilbert out, and Ludwig was grateful, but sometimes...

Sometimes, he kinda wished Ivan would, if only so Gilbert would shut up.

Ivan was much tougher than the rest, and had been doing an admirable job of resisting Gilbert's attempts to run him off, however brutal Gilbert was in his efforts.

Gilbert was very aware of that, and highly displeased.

So far, though, both Ludwig and Ivan were clinging in there and trying to weather the storm.

Secretly.

Ludwig sat at his desk one cool night, book beneath him. It was quite late, and Gilbert was asleep down below.

A knock on his window.

Ludwig ran for it immediately, opened the curtains, and smiled, seeing there exactly who he had expected.

Ivan.

Gilbert very much guarded the front and back doors, but couldn't guard the air, and even Gilbert had to sleep.

Ludwig lifted the windowpane, stuck his head out, and Ivan pressed forward to kiss him, straddling the tree branch holding him there aloft. Ludwig pulled back, folded his arms and rested his head, and smiled at Ivan as he sat happily upon his deciduous perch.

Ivan's eyes ran over his face, and he asked, in a whisper, "Wanna go get into trouble with me?"

"Always," Ludwig drawled.

Ivan shot him a smile, skillfully lowered himself down the tree and back down to the ground, and peered up at Ludwig from below.

Ludwig carefully slid his legs over the window, crouched there for a moment to gather his bravery as he always did, and then, as he always did, he whispered, "If you drop me, we're over."

And, as he always did, Ivan hissed, "Would never dream of it!"

Ludwig slid out, entrusting his fate to Ivan, and as usual Ivan came through, catching him easily and leaning him back with a dramatic flourish.

"Happy?" he asked, eyes lidded and smile crooked, and Ludwig clung to neck.

"Indubitably!"

Ivan arched down and kissed him, stood him up straight, and whispered, "Stop using big words. You make me look bad. Just 'cause you work in a library doesn't mean you gotta show off."

Ludwig merely popped up on his toes, kissed Ivan, and they quickly scurried off into the shadows as Gilbert slept away inside.

The only way to find a bit of peace.

They had been together now for seven months. Four of them with Gilbert's knowledge, but certainly not his blessing, and whenever Gilbert knew Ludwig was trying to go out to meet Ivan he raised holy hell. It had gotten old, very quickly, and so now Ludwig snuck out like a little kid.

They darted through shadows, and when they reached Ivan's house, Ludwig felt the stress of Gilbert fade away. Any time with Ivan was time well spent, and Ludwig wished Gilbert could just see how happy Ludwig was and be happy for him.

Clearly, Ivan's idea that night of 'getting into trouble' merely consisted of a chess board and a pack of beer.

Less devious than Ludwig had anticipated.

Ivan led him straight to the couch, set the chessboard down between them as they sat cross-legged on either side, and Ivan said to Ludwig, as he opened up his beer, "I'm going to win this time."

"I'm sure," Ludwig rumbled, taking his own beer.

Ivan hadn't beaten Ludwig in a game yet, and honestly that was astounding because Ivan clearly wanted it very badly and always seemed so focused and intent. Ludwig didn't consider himself a chess expert by any means, absolutely not, and he knew a good bit of it was luck. Sometimes, he had even wondered if Ivan had let him win, because he hadn't been trying all that hard.

Maybe Ivan wanted to win _so_ badly that it muddled his mind and he fumbled.

Ludwig lifted his beer bottle to clink it against Ivan's, and teased, "So! You think getting me drunk is the key to your victory, do you?"

"Yes," Ivan answered, with no hesitation. "I told you, tonight is my night."

Ludwig eyed Ivan up and down, perhaps a bit heatedly, gaze lingering on Ivan's big hands as he set up the board, and he randomly said, "Need some incentive?"

Ivan glanced up.

Ludwig leaned forward, and said, quite sultrily and shamelessly because of course his big brother wasn't there to corral him, "Shall we play for stakes? So you'll have a reason to win?"

From the dilation of Ivan's pupils, Ludwig was fairly certain that sat well with him.

"Oh? What will you give me if I win?"

Feeling brave and bold, Ludwig replied, "Me, of course. That should have been obvious. Lose, and you'll get nothing."

A restless shift of Ivan's weight, as he clearly thought about pouncing then and there and fought it off, and then he asked, "And what do you want if you win?"

"What will you give me?"

"Anything."

Ludwig scoffed, leaning ever farther forward, and murmured, "That's a bit risky, isn't it?"

Ivan looked him up and down, and said, softly, "I like to live dangerously."

Maybe, but how dangerously Ivan liked to live made no matter in the end, because tipsy Ludwig was more than happy to let Ivan win that game, an hour later. Would very much have liked to claim that 'anything', but the prospect of Ivan getting his 'anything' was far more appealing when he was warm and inebriated.

Ivan was no fool, and grumbled, astutely, "You let me win."

Was almost pouting, Ludwig was sure of it, and it was adorable. To spare Ivan's ego, Ludwig set his beer aside, picked up the board and put it on the coffee table, and crawled forward and on top of Ivan, pushing him back.

Ivan was quick to grab his waist, looking yet disappointed, and Ludwig attempted to appease him by uttering, "I let you win because you had a checkmate ten minutes ago that you missed. It was only fair."

And that was actually true—Ivan frequently missed checkmates, and Ludwig never really could figure out why.

A long study of his face, a judging of his sincerity, and moping Ivan finally cheered up a bit and seemed quite eager to claim his prize. He squirmed out from under Ludwig, and Ludwig nearly squealed when Ivan picked him up and actually threw him over his shoulder to cart him up the stairs.

Exhilarating.

Ludwig was a big guy, but Ivan picked him up as if he were a doll, and that never got old, it really didn't.

Ivan tossed him upon the bed, fell on top of him so heavily that the air was knocked out of his lungs, and there was no waste of time at all as Ivan claimed his winnings.

They had learned to live quickly, with Ludwig's watch always going off to keep Gilbert from going off.

Ivan was quiet afterwards that time, though, head propped up on his palm as he stared down at Ludwig thoughtfully.

Eventually, Ludwig asked, as he swept Ivan's hair out of his eyes, "What?"

Ivan stared at Ludwig, eyes heavy, and murmured, "Nothing. I just... I wish I could just actually be together with my own boyfriend. Without all of this sneaking around."

A twinge of shame and guilt.

How much longer would Ivan last this way? Ivan was putting up with so much more than he should have, was putting everything he had into this relationship, and Ludwig knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever, nor was it fair to expect him to. Wasn't fair to Ivan.

Wouldn't let him go.

It was then, with that newfound determination, that Ludwig first got _that_ idea.

Wouldn't let Ivan go, just wouldn't, and if the only way to keep him meant getting Gilbert off of his back, then so be it. And the only way to get Gilbert off of his back was to distract Gilbert. But that was going to be exceedingly difficult, because there was nothing on the planet more laser-focused than a Gilbert who saw someone flirting with his little brother.

What to do.

Ludwig spent his time in the library now thinking away, mind always whirring.

The great thing about working in a library was how mercifully quiet it always was. A great reprieve from the bustling city, and Ludwig enjoyed filing the books and shelving them dutifully. The quiet was certainly more helpful now than ever before, as he planned and pondered.

It would come to him.

Eventually...

And then, in the middle of that constant plotting, Ludwig saw a new face in the library.

Just glanced over by chance and saw him sitting there at a table, a stack of books before him and a notepad at his side, scribbling away. New faces always caught his interest, but this time his interest lingered, and Ludwig found himself staring.

Hm.

A handsome fellow, certainly. Gilbert's age, more or less. Brunet hair, tied back. A sharp nose that was on the cusp of being Slavic but not quite. A rather oval face, low cheeks. Thick eyebrows and heavy lashes, covering his eyes as he read. When he happened to lift his head, Ludwig could see that his eyes were a greenish-blue shade. Quite pretty. Nice hands, too. Long fingers. Certainly Eastern European, but Ludwig couldn't quite place it. Wasn't something Ludwig had ever really seen before. But very attractive.

Gilbert's type of—

Holy shit!

It hit him, just like that, and it was as if the proverbial light bulb had gone off over Ludwig's head, and he actually gasped a bit aloud.

That was it! The perfect distraction for Gilbert was, of course, to get him on his own dates. Get him out of Ludwig's hair by throwing him into someone else's. Why hadn't he thought of that before? If Gilbert was busy wooing, then he would have no time to focus on his little brother's love life.

Brilliant.

Because _that_ man certainly was Gilbert's type. One half of it, anyway. Gilbert was quite openly bisexual, and in theory that would make it so much easier to toss him into a date. Here, already, he had a potential suitor. Unsuspecting ones were the best. Gilbert had a thing for brunettes, if his past dating history was any indication. The last woman he had dated had had green eyes, not too far off from this man before him. Could certainly see Gilbert going for this one.

Pumped with adrenaline and so ready to get rid of Gilbert, Ludwig found himself walking up to that man, and coming to a halt before him.

Didn't even know what to say, but wanted to say _something_.

Couldn't just say, 'Hey, you. You're handsome. Wanna go out with my crazy brother?'

The man eventually noticed Ludwig standing there, and lifted his head. A long, rather awkward stare, and then Ludwig finally said, weakly, "Need some help with something?" He inclined his head to the stack of books, at the man's lifted brow.

His eyes were very, very pretty. His stand-out feature, by far.

The man looked Ludwig up and down, and then pertly resumed his scribbling, saying, "No, thanks."

"Oh." Ludwig crinkled his nose a bit in thought, trying to come up with something, and eventually just added, in a scarcely audible rumble, "I just thought you were looking for something in particular. If you, ah...need help finding something, or anything, just ask. I work here, so... You know. I'll be nearby."

Lame.

A sigh, and then the man glanced up again, scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, and asked, rather drolly, "You hitting on me or something?"

Ludwig's face immediately blazed unholy red, he opened his mouth and instantly fumbled, and ducked his head aside.

Dammit!

The man snorted at Ludwig's fumbling, and when Ludwig finally gathered the courage to look back over, he was smirking.

Another long rake over, and then a bland drawl.

"You're cute, kid, but you're too young for me. And way too shy."

Perfect!

Bolstered at that, Ludwig tried to bite down his humiliation, fortify his will, and he managed to say, however weakly, "So you're single. That's good."

That time, the man laughed, and leaned back in his chair, one brow lifted and looking a bit friendlier, less stern.

"Persistent, are we? That's a step up."

Yup, but only because he desperately wanted to salvage his own relationship.

But this man's relationship status was really all he needed to know, and Ludwig's embarrassment shut his brain down shortly after, and so he skittered off into the aisles, leaving the stranger alone and wondering how he would get Gilbert and this man into the same room together.

Looking back on it, Ludwig probably should have asked, 'What's your type?'

Pitiful.

Wouldn't really matter, he supposed, because Gilbert was...unique.

Gilbert was, in Ludwig's eyes, incredibly handsome. Certainly a looker, and maybe Ludwig would go so far to call him gorgeous. Had sharp cheeks, square jaw, broad chin, shapely nose. Pretty eyes. Certainly had every marker of male attractiveness. The problem with Gilbert, of course, lied in him being albino, and that just wasn't everyone's cup of tea, so to speak. Couldn't help that, and many people just weren't interested.

When was the last time Gilbert had even been on a date? Certainly not since before he had started ruining his little brother's. Ludwig was fifteen, the last time he remembered Gilbert bringing someone over. Five years. Surely Gilbert was ready for a new romance, and this guy looked just right.

Not to say Gilbert hadn't been active, but Ludwig didn't count one night stands. Because, to be quite frank, he simply would never have been able to keep up with Gilbert in that aspect. Gilbert, after all, was a little local celebrity, and it was easy for him to find what he wanted.

A real relationship was a much harder acquisition.

The man left an hour or so later, and Ludwig began to keep an eye out for him every day.

Didn't take long to establish him as a new regular. His schedule seemed to be rather consistent. Monday through Friday, always at noon, and he stayed for exactly an hour and a half.

Perfect.

Loved people with schedules as consistent as his own.

Ludwig wasted no time in beginning his operation, so to speak, and when Monday came, Ludwig was waiting.

Ludwig poked his head around the corner, saw that man sitting there as expected, and pulled out his phone. He texted Gilbert, and asked him to bring him a coffee, because Gilbert would of course always comply. When Gilbert wasn't training, he was always restless, and often he would swing by the library of his own volition.

Didn't take even twenty seconds before Gilbert had texted him back and given an affirmative.

Now!

The setting.

The man always sat on the table in the middle of the room, on the second floor. The table touched the glass half-wall that surrounded the staircase, and there were aisles on the other side. To get to Ludwig, Gilbert would have to walk right past that man, and hopefully Gilbert would notice him there and be interested.

He waited, impatiently, putting himself into the aisles adjacent the man of the hour. Before too long, he heard Gilbert's loud, brash voice below, as he greeted the other employees and began the search for Ludwig.

Ludwig peered out frequently, and spied Gilbert scaling the stairs.

By then, he was two aisles behind the studious brunet, and Gilbert looked around for Ludwig. Ludwig poked his head out, waved to get Gilbert's attention, and held his breath. Gilbert lifted his chin when he saw Ludwig and began the march over, coffee in either hand and looking as arrogant as ever.

Ludwig watched, very intensely.

Closer and closer.

Step. One more. Come on...

But Gilbert just walked right by, and didn't notice the man there at all, and the man didn't once look up from his book.

Bust.

No matter how frequently Ludwig walked back and forth, Gilbert trailing behind him, he just couldn't get Gilbert and that man to notice each other. Gilbert left shortly after when the coffee was finished, with no result.

Damn. Wasn't giving up!

It was Ludwig then who turned into a bit of a stalker.

Wasn't his most professional moment, no, and he was a bit ashamed of himself, but nonetheless he scribbled down that man's address when he scanned his library card.

A glance down.

Toris, huh? Knew his name now. And, fortunately, he didn't live too far away.

It was a first step, a little bit of knowledge, a little hope, and Ludwig left work that day very content. So content, in fact, that he risked Gilbert's wrath to run straight to Ivan's and spend the evening with him.

When Ivan opened the door and saw Ludwig, he gave one of those pretty, crooked smiles of excitement that Ludwig loved.

"Hey! What a nice surprise. Is it my birthday?"

Ludwig loved that smile, yeah, but...

Just hated that Ludwig showing up was cause for it. Shouldn't have been that way, because they should have been free to come and go as they pleased without fearing the wrath of Gilbert.

So Ludwig just said, adoringly, "It can be, if that's what you want."

"Nah," Ivan quickly said, grabbing Ludwig's hand and yanking him inside, "I'm old enough already."

They quickly took their usual spot on the couch, Ivan always so happy to pin Ludwig underneath him, sometimes just to rest his head on Ludwig's chest and doze off for a while.

No nap today, though. Ivan was wide-awake, and Ludwig was glad, as excited as he was to set this new plan of his in motion. Thinking of the outcomes. Dreaming of the finish line.

Ivan kissed his neck, hands running down his sides, and Ludwig smiled up at the ceiling as he plotted the next day's move.

Ivan wasn't oblivious to his good mood, and murmured, "You've been smiling a lot lately."

In response, Ludwig just smiled all the more, and Ivan's look became suspicious.

"What are you up to?"

Ludwig reached up, ran his hand down Ivan's cheek, and teased, "Nothing at all! Just plotting how I was going to seduce you."

A rather beleaguered look, as Ivan's brow shot up.

"I don't think you need to plot to do that. Usually just walking in does the trick."

And that must have been true, because immediately after Ivan's hand was under his shirt and Ludwig found himself yanked upright and straddling Ivan. Plotting was momentarily forgotten, and Ivan was content to sit there and let him do all of the work that time.

At some point in that hot daze, Ivan murmured, in his ear, "When will you move in here with me?"

Elation.

He would find a way to make this all work, he would, because he wouldn't let Gilbert drive Ivan off. Would eventually leave Gilbert to be with Ivan, but could never do so on violent terms. Wouldn't let it go that way. Would force Gilbert to be at peace with everything before he gave himself entirely to Ivan.

Loved Ivan so much, but wouldn't have lost Gilbert for the universe entire.

He'd find a way.

The very next day, Ludwig began reconnaissance.

Toris didn't live far away, after all, and it merely took a few minutes to spy him coming out of a convenience store one evening. Ludwig checked his watch, let his eyes follow Toris, and then ambled off. The next day, he came by at the same time. There Toris was, at the same shop at the very same minute. The third day, identical.

It was a habit, and after six days of the same thing, Ludwig considered it rather a failsafe. Toris had an extremely specific coffee habit, and Ludwig wasted no time in taking advantage of it.

Monday evening, Ludwig asked Gilbert to accompany him to that shop.

Gilbert, ever restless, of course complied.

As they walked along, Ludwig glanced frequently at Gilbert, looked him up and down, and determined once and for all that Gilbert was, in fact, exceedingly handsome, and Toris would be silly not to consider him.

They reached the shop, Ludwig took his time browsing, glancing always at his watch, and when he had just enough time left, he paid for his items and they set out the door. Ludwig bristled, knowing that at that very moment Toris was walking up behind them.

Toris should have been inside now...

Tick, tock.

Ludwig counted the seconds, watching like a hawk Gilbert's feet, the distance, and then, when the time was right, Ludwig suddenly stopped stark still, Gilbert stopped, too, and Ludwig said, "Gilbert, I think I left my wallet on the counter. Will you go look?"

"Sure," Gilbert replied, as expected, and turned on his heel, walking back to the store.

Ludwig stared at his back, eyes razor focused and holding his breath.

Come on! Had put way too much into this for it not to work.

Gilbert reached out to grab the door, and pulled it open. He did so just in time to come face to face with Toris.

 _Yes_! A surge of adrenaline. Expectancy.

Gilbert sidestepped, but so did Toris, in the same direction. Gilbert sidestepped again, as Toris did, and Gilbert snorted, stepping back and just holding the door open instead. Toris walked through, uttering a thanks, and walked on.

Ludwig stood there, impatiently, waiting.

Dammit, Gilbert! Do something!

Just when Ludwig thought that Gilbert was very uninterested, was going to let him down, Gilbert suddenly looked over his shoulder in Toris' direction as he walked away. Just a look, a glance, and then Gilbert went inside.

All Ludwig needed.

Victory, in a sense.

Had only needed that second glance to know whether or not Gilbert would be interested, and Ludwig considered this an affirmative.

Didn't really need to know about Toris' level of interest, because once Gilbert got Toris in his sights it was all over for him, one way or another. Either Toris would immediately shoot Gilbert down and it was back to the drawing board, or they would hit it off.

Either way, it was a start, and Ludwig felt Gilbert's noose loosening just a bit.

Minutes later, Gilbert came back out, and said to Ludwig, "I didn't see it—"

"I have it," Ludwig quickly said, as they carried on. "I put it inside the bag for some reason."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and slung his arm over Ludwig's shoulder as he always did, oblivious to Ludwig plotting away his fate.

That night, when Ivan came tapping on his window, Ludwig was so bolstered and so riled up that he just grabbed Ivan's arm and hauled him right inside. Ivan tumbled in, looked up at Ludwig with surprise, and whispered, "Feeling brave?"

Tugging Ivan over to the bed, Ludwig hissed back, "I can live dangerously, too."

Yeah, right.

Ivan snorted anyway, sitting down when Ludwig shoved him, and, after checking to make sure his door was locked, Ludwig pounced on him.

After all, Gilbert had taken the first step into Ludwig's web.

Ludwig did indeed live very dangerously that night, as they took their usually rough activities down several notches, trying to be quiet and stealthy and wincing every time the bed creaked. Ivan frequently glanced at the door, as if he were just envisioning Gilbert bursting in with a shotgun. So worried about that, in fact, that he eventually clamped a hand over Ludwig's mouth even though Ludwig was hardly making any noise at all.

Luckily, Gilbert never awoke, and no one came kicking down his door.

Whew.

Ivan was very happy to fall asleep there atop him, and Ludwig was happier to have him there. His game was by no means won, but Ludwig's confidence was ever rising.

He did wonder sometimes, though, if he was doing all of this for naught. Maybe Ivan would still leave him, even if he did manage to get Gilbert to just back off. Maybe they weren't meant to be.

Well...

If so, then at least this time he could say he had actually tried, had really been proactive instead of just standing there and letting Gilbert run Ivan away. He had given it his all, and that was that.

He ran fingers up and down Ivan's back as he slept, and eventually drifted off.

Ready for the next day's move.

At the first light of dawn, Ivan stirred, kissed Ludwig, and promptly crawled out of the window and down the tree. Ludwig watched him go from above, smiling away, and was ready to get moving.

Getting closer and closer each time, he was so sure of it.

Time to play another round of 'love at first sight'. Gilbert hadn't noticed Toris the very first time, but they had crossed paths now, had seen each other, however briefly, and so that memory was there. This time, Gilbert had something remotely familiar to work with, and surely for that it would go differently.

That afternoon, as he had before, Ludwig texted Gilbert and requested a coffee.

Gilbert obliged.

Toris, the poor oblivious son of a bitch, sat ever at his table, clueless that Ludwig was puppeteering him. Gilbert arrived, and Ludwig waited. A scaling of the steps. Poor, ignorant Gilbert had coffee in hand, thinking so innocently he was merely running a little errand. Ludwig dared to stick his head out, watching quietly and carefully and feeling quite like the evil master of the universe.

So close!

Gilbert was walking up to Toris' table. Would pass him at any moment. A step, another, and then Gilbert was close enough to notice Toris. A glance, a step, another glance, and then a hesitation. Gilbert's head tilted, thoughtfully.

Ludwig's heart was hammering.

Toris seemed to realize he was being stared at, and glanced briefly upward.

A long stare, and it was Gilbert who said, "Didn't I run into you the other day?"

Toris lifted his head fully, fingers drumming the table, and then he finally said, blandly, "I suppose so. Surprised you can remember that."

Gilbert smirked, and retorted, "Why's that? You remembered me just fine."

"With all due respect," Toris drawled, "It's not exactly hard to remember _you_."

"Lucky me," Gilbert threw back, just as condescending as Toris was.

Those two. Sarcastic and snappy and playful. Hoped they would click rather than clash. Ludwig had already put far too much effort into this.

Toris looked Gilbert up and down as Gilbert set the coffee briefly down upon the table, and then said, mostly to himself, "Why do you look so familiar to me?"

Gilbert leered crookedly, smug as ever, and ran a hand very arrogantly through his hair as he said, "Ah. You must be a football fan."

Toris lifted his chin and said, eagerly, "Ah! That's it, then! Preußen Münster's striker, are you?" Toris looked Gilbert up and down as Gilbert swaggered and flexed, awaiting awe and praise as always, but this time he didn't get it, because Toris rested his chin on his interlocked fingers and said, so seriously, "I still remember you missing that open goal last year against Kiel. An entire, unguarded net, and you hit the post. Ahh... I had a good laugh at that."

Gilbert's pale face burned red, his hand dropped back down to his side, he looked utterly mortified, and Ludwig buried his face in his sleeve to avoid laughing.

Oh, man! Sure did like Toris a lot. Hoped they would go out, because someone needed to keep Gilbert in line, and Toris seemed more than capable.

Gilbert gave a weak laugh, gathered himself back up, put on that old face of arrogance, and tried, "You have a good memory! Good. Ha, that means you can remember all the nets I did hit."

Toris' rather bland look.

"Mm-hm. You're a regular _hero_ , aren't you?"

Toris' sarcasm very much fell on deaf ears, because Gilbert's head was high again, his chest was thrust out, his shoulders squared, and he was once more pompous.

Took the right kind of person to put up with Gilbert, Ludwig knew, but so far Toris seemed quite like the right kind indeed. Didn't fold to Gilbert at all, but didn't immediately dismiss him. Wouldn't let Gilbert have his ego easily, but so far hadn't truly attempted to deflate it. So far, so good.

Gilbert looked around, and then said, in a lower voice, "So. You live around here? You come here a lot? I've never seen you before."

Toris had long since lowered his pretty eyes back down to his book, pen in hand and scribbling away, giving Gilbert only half of his attention.

"I've always been here. I just recently came to the library. I was getting bored."

Toris left it there, not contributing much, and Gilbert seemed rather confused that someone he was talking to wasn't leaping on him. Was so used to getting everything so easily, and Toris wasn't playing along.

At last, Gilbert seemed to realize he wasn't making much headway, and said, "Yeah. Cool. See you around."

"Sure."

Gilbert crept off quietly, saw Ludwig in the aisle and shoved the coffee into his hand, and then he vanished, no doubt to go stand in front of the mirror and reaffirm to himself how awesome and spectacular he was and that this was just a fluke.

Ludwig smiled for the rest of the day, and began planning his next move.

Gilbert's next home game was in three days, and Ludwig pondered how he could possibly get Toris to somehow come to the stadium and watch Gilbert play. Would certainly have given Gilbert the boost he needed, the courage and the confidence.

But Toris wouldn't be so easily swayed.

Ludwig plotted and plotted, idea after idea, and was getting frustrated when Ivan showed up. He looked over, to see Ivan strutting inside with a large bouquet of flowers, and his face was red long before Ivan actually reached the counter.

Ivan leaned an elbow on the counter, propped his chin up as he set the flowers down, and said, seriously, "Excuse me, can you help me? I'm lost. I'm looking for the way to heaven. Can you give me directions, since you just came from there?"

Another horrible burn of red, and Ludwig managed to sigh and ask, weakly, "Who taught you all of these bad lines?"

Ivan, unbothered by how lame his lines were, very easily replied, "The guys in the gym back in Berlin."

"How did these go over for them?"

Ivan snorted.

"Not well."

"So why do you keep using them?" Ludwig asked, lifting his chin primly and trying to appear very stoic.

In vain, because Ivan merely gave him a rather droll look over and said, "'Cause they keep workin' on _you_."

...fair point.

Ludwig turned his head away with a quick 'Hmph!' of offense, crossing his arms over his chest. Ivan, having none of it, stretched his arm forward and held the flowers out, leering away. Ludwig resisted for a good five seconds, which was an improvement, given that he usually lasted about two.

He took the flowers, Ivan leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and asked, "Will you come over later?"

"How can I refuse?" Ludwig teased, as he held the flowers to his chest. "I am a fool for those bad lines, after all."

Ivan shot him a wink, turned around, and left.

Sometimes, Ivan reminded Ludwig what he was very much going through all of this trouble for. These entirely random and unexpected bouts of romance were beyond endearing.

He tried to get back to work, after putting the flowers in a cup of water.

Hard to focus, when he still had to figure Toris out.

Ludwig glanced over at the flowers, a while later, and yet another light bulb went off.

That was it!

Had the perfect idea, the best plan, and Ludwig ran over to Ivan's right after work to express his gratitude. And not verbally, although his mouth was put to use.

Ivan hissed to himself at some point that he was 'going to bring you flowers every goddamn day.'

Sure, whatever.

The next day, after work, Ludwig set off. He walked into a flower shop, looked around for a while, and Ludwig bought the nicest bouquet he saw, ran home as quickly as he could, wrote a little note, stuck it in the flowers, and waited eagerly for the next morning.

The note was simple :

_'Come see me play tomorrow, if you can! I'd like to see you there cheering for me. I won't hit the post. I'll impress you, for sure. — Lucky 13'_

Sounded like something Gilbert would say. Maybe. Gilbert, come to think, would have been far more crass, but perhaps this would work yet in Ludwig's favor. Within the note, he had enclosed a ticket. Had to rely now upon Toris actually going.

But who could refuse?

It was a dream ticket; right above the home team, very first row, and more importantly it was free. Needed Toris to be in Gilbert's sights, and Ludwig, being the star player's brother, could get any ticket he wanted, free of charge. _Most_ importantly of course, Ludwig would be the one sitting directly beside Toris, ready and willing to sing his asshole brother's praises.

Ludwig waited very restlessly for noon, and when Toris showed up perfectly on time, Ludwig waited for him to take his usual seat. He took the flowers out from under the counter, went upstairs, feeling rather foolish, and made his move.

Toris happened to glance up and see him coming, and sat up straight in his chair, arms falling loose beside of him and mouth falling too when he realized that Ludwig was coming at him with flowers.

Oh, how Ludwig felt a fool!

When he finally reached Toris, Toris said, in disbelief, "Wow! This is a _real_ step up, kid!"

Ludwig laughed weakly, and teased back, "Sad to say they're not from me! Looks like you have an admirer. A man left these for you. I'm just delivering. Looks like I wasn't quick enough, huh? Too bad. Some other time."

He set the flowers on the table, and promptly bolted before Toris could say another word, running down the staircase and glancing over just in time to see dazed Toris reaching for the flowers.

Hope.

He couldn't sleep all night, jittery as he was, and the next day he was pacing everywhere.

Oh, Toris! Please show up.

The next evening, Ludwig combed his hair and dressed himself in his jersey after spending a few quiet hours with Ivan, and he set off for the stadium, arriving there very early, as he always did. He was let through, wound his way to the locker rooms, and Gilbert punched his chest when they came face to face. Ludwig was, according to Gilbert, his lucky charm. Never missed a home game, and Gilbert had never lost here. Only on away games, when Ludwig couldn't attend, and it had become a bit of a joke. How seriously Gilbert took it, Ludwig couldn't say, but _he_ had never felt very lucky.

Ludwig may have looked very smug for the half hour he chatted with Gilbert, knowing that, with the right moves, Ludwig was about to pull a grand one over on Gilbert.

Just waiting for Toris now.

Ludwig took his seat, and checked his watch. Didn't feel nervous, surprisingly. Maybe, in some part of his mind, he was getting overconfident, because he just felt so sure that he was winning this game and that Toris would come.

And he was right; Toris did come.

Ludwig was cast in shadow, and looked over.

Just who he wanted to see, although the sentiment may not have been mutual. Toris looked quite shocked when he realized who he would be sitting next to, and he stood there for a good while, glancing down at his ticket and then back at Ludwig. A tilt of Toris' head, a hesitation, but he eventually sat.

Ludwig looked over at him, and Toris simply said, "Fancy seeing you here."

Feeling excited and slightly devious, Ludwig just lifted a brow and said, "I'm always here. I should be saying that to you. I've certainly never seen _you_ here before."

A shift of Toris' shoulder, a very quick sneer, and he said, airily, "You act like you own the place."

"I may as well," Ludwig said, turning his eyes to the pitch, towards Gilbert, who was warming up quite cheerily. "What with my brother being the star."

Toris' head snapped over, as expected, and he asked, for clarification, "Who's your brother?"

Ludwig neatly inclined his head towards the screen above, as Gilbert's face flickered there in grand fashion.

Toris balked.

"No way!" he immediately said, glancing back and forth between the screen and Ludwig. A long, hard study, a short exhale, and then Toris shook his head. Afterwards, he said, lowly, "That makes so much more sense."

"What does?"

Without batting an eye at all, Toris drawled, "Why a dumbass like that would ever be in a library in the first place. I couldn't figure that one out. I'd be shocked if he could read at all, with all that testosterone and ego frying his brain."

Ooh— _ouch_!

Ludwig felt that one for Gilbert, and scoffed, brows shooting up and likely looking quite incredulous.

Toris had absolutely no filter.

As an afterthought, Toris looked over at Ludwig from beneath lidded eyes, and added, "Oh. Sorry."

His tone made it clear that he was not, actually, sorry at all.

Ludwig waved it off regardless, because, well...

Kinda true.

Gilbert would never have set foot into that library if Ludwig didn't work there, so Ludwig would concede that point to Toris, but the fact still remained that Toris had come here regardless of how intelligent he perceived Gilbert to (not) be.

So, Ludwig threw Gilbert a slight lifeline, by uttering, as the teams took their positions, "I suppose that's why he just doesn't have luck in love. Poor thing. All alone."

Toris shifted, and merely made a noise of disinterest.

Seconds later, he muttered, "Guess that's why he makes you his flower delivery boy, huh? You know, I'm a little disappointed. Here I was, thinking I was popular enough to be chased by two men at the same time, but it would appear you were just a pawn."

Ludwig laughed.

The whistle blew.

Toris' intense eyes were very much on Gilbert, and Ludwig could only watch and wait.

When Gilbert scored the first goal of the match, as was rather expected, he did exactly what he always did, and ran straight to Ludwig. As always, Ludwig leaned over the railing, arm stretched down to clap Gilbert's hand. Nothing new.

The only difference was that Gilbert's eyes twitched over and he saw Toris there sitting beside of Ludwig.

A strange, breathless smile, an odd hesitation, Gilbert's hand clasped around his own, and Gilbert seemed rather dumbfounded, staring at Toris in surprise. Toris stared right back at him, quite haughtily, and it took Gilbert being tackled by his teammates before he was able to look away and get back in place.

As expected, Gilbert seemed to really puff out and put far more effort into the game. Gilbert was so confident in himself that he was always laid-back and natural when he played. Not at that moment; under a pair of watchful new eyes, Gilbert seemed to be feeling intense pressure.

Hm. Most curious. A very good outcome for Ludwig.

Poor Gilbert must have been so terrified of hitting the post then. Would have haunted him for eternity. Sadly for him, putting more effort into the game also made him clumsier, and he was very often mugged of the ball.

Toris' sharp, pretty eyes just followed Gilbert all over the pitch, regardless of where the ball happened to be at any given time.

Ten minutes to go in the first half, Gilbert had a shot, and Ludwig could see the anxiety getting to him, and there was a hesitation, for just a split second, a glance in Toris' general direction. Just enough; that split second cost him, and instead of shooting with his natural left foot, Gilbert struck with the right, and the ball went far over the net. _Way_ far. All the way into the stands.

Gilbert threw his head back and covered his face with his palms.

Ludwig glanced over to see Toris scoff and sneer.

When halftime came, Gilbert darted over to Ludwig, and Ludwig was smirking away with no constraint because, however much Gilbert chattered to Ludwig, his eyes always drifted over to Toris. Hadn't gathered the courage to speak to him yet, though, but that was likely because the game was far from over, hanging there at 1 - 0, and if they lost yet Gilbert probably would have slunk out of the stadium in shame.

Toris, though, always met Gilbert's eyes, and that was because Toris just didn't look away from him. Gilbert was intimidated by that, for now. When victory was assured, no doubt Gilbert would get his nerve back.

Couldn't blame Gilbert; speaking to Toris right then would have very likely earned some very sharp remark about that ball hitting outer space.

Because Ludwig was the good brother, he grabbed Gilbert's hand, gave it a good jostle, and said, encouragingly, "Hey, why you look so nervous? I'm your lucky charm, remember? You never lose when I'm here."

A puff of Gilbert's chest, and a crooked smile.

"Oh, yeah! Right!"

Gilbert's confidence steadied, his nerves calmed, and he let go of Ludwig to run back to the team, but not before one more long look at Toris.

That time, Gilbert balanced well his urge to show off with his clarity, and moved far more fluidly. The other team scored, and Toris was getting quite invested by the time Gilbert fired home another shot. Ludwig leapt up, pumped as he always was when Gilbert scored, but Toris was still yet.

The next goal, Toris actually raised up out of his seat, halfway, clearly impressed by Gilbert's hat trick but very quickly sitting back down. Gilbert just got better and better, full of confidence by then, and after every single goal he clasped Ludwig's hand but smiled at Toris. One more goal, and that time Toris had actually stood up all the way, if only for a second.

Ludwig was in the clouds.

The final whistle.

4 - 1. Not bad. Had seen better from Gilbert, but had also seen far worse. A resounding victory.

Ludwig spared a glance at Toris, whose chin was very high, eyes lidded and brow lofty and very much sneering down at Gilbert. Ludwig snorted, averting his eyes back down to Gilbert as well, as he came trotting up to Ludwig as always.

Ludwig leaned yet again over, clapped Gilbert's hand, and said, very pointedly, "Good show today! It's almost as if you actually cared."

A twitch of Gilbert's eyes to Toris, who was doing a very good job of looking extremely unimpressed although Ludwig knew he actually was, from how he had stood.

Gilbert replied, loudly, "I can't let my cheerleader down!"

The crowd steadily filed out.

When it was quieter, Gilbert wiped the sweat from his brow, at last met Toris' eyes, and asked, with perhaps false bravado, "So! Did I make up for last year?"

Toris gave Gilbert a very intense look-over, pushed out his lips in thought, and then murmured, "I just came to see you hit the post again. I find myself disappointed. I suppose I'll have no choice but to try again next time."

Gilbert, ignoring the jab, honed in on the last bit of Toris' statement, and said, far more surely, "So I impressed you! Good to know I've got you hooked and coming back for more. You can be part of my cheerleading squad."

Toris' eyes narrowed, and Ludwig really wished that he could pull off an expression even half as condescending as Toris appeared in that moment. It was damn impressive.

Ludwig waited quite anxiously, praying that Toris wouldn't bring up the flowers and earn Ludwig Gilbert's ire.

Luckily, Toris never did, and Ludwig sighed in relief.

When Toris stood up and meant to leave, Gilbert called, hopefully, "Say! You gonna be at the library tomorrow?"

Toris looked over his shoulder, brow high, and threw Gilbert just a little bit of slack.

"I suppose so."

Toris meant to walk off, and Gilbert called, "Hey—! What's your name?"

Toris once more looked back, but he didn't answer Gilbert, merely smiling quite coyly.

What a tease.

With that smile, Toris lifted his foot and was gone, and Ludwig leered down at Gilbert, teasing him a bit by saying, "He is quite handsome, isn't he?"

Gilbert, staring in Toris' wake, just answered, "Yeah."

Perfect.

When they were on the way home a while later, Gilbert asked, "Say, Lutz! You run into that guy a lot?"

Ludwig tried to hide his sneer, and said, calmly, "Every so often. He usually stops by the library at noon."

Gilbert logged that helpful bit of information away, and Ludwig waited yet again.

Worthwhile.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Gilbert seemed to be frequenting the library far more than he ever had. On the hour that Toris happened to also be in the library. What a coincidence! Couldn't have possibly been related at all.

Ludwig's smirk was likely soul-crushingly smug every time he glanced up and saw Gilbert coming towards him. Always had some great excuse, too, as to why he had come by. Ludwig's fault, for texting him too often for favors.

'Hey, Lutz! Brought you a coffee. I know you've had a long day.'

'Mm-hm,' Ludwig merely intoned, accepting the coffee as Gilbert looked this way and that not-so-inconspicuously. Ludwig quirked a brow as Gilbert scoured the library, and Ludwig would always ask, after a long minute, 'So who's the third coffee for?'

A tint of red on Gilbert's face, and he would wave Ludwig off and wander away.

When Ludwig went upstairs, there they usually were at a table, and Ludwig sat back and watched them contentedly. They were oblivious to Ludwig; Gilbert was too busy babbling away and gesturing wildly to Toris, who stared over at Gilbert as if he had just phased into being right there in front of his eyes.

Ludwig lurked around corners and watched.

Many days passed in that very fashion, and although Toris always stared at Gilbert as if he were a bug, he had made absolutely zero effort to murder him with a rolled-up newspaper, and always sat complacently still as Gilbert rambled away to him.

Sometimes, when Gilbert was cackling away at his own jokes, Toris would actually crack a smile, very swiftly suppressed.

Ludwig only interrupted them those days when Gilbert got too loud, and he had to promptly come up behind his sibling, lean down, and hiss in his ear, "Shh!"

Gilbert always looked abashed and toned it down. ...for about five minutes. Couldn't seem to stop jabbering to Toris, and Toris was being very patient.

Ludwig felt hope.

Sometimes, he stepped in to act as a wingman.

Gilbert was a showoff in every sense of the word, never wasted an opportunity, and so Ludwig, being a good brother, was more than happy to provide him with said opportunities.

As Toris stared at blabbering Gilbert, as usual lately, Ludwig came up behind them and said, "Gilbert, mind giving me a hand?"

Gilbert sputtered to a halt in his spiel, glanced up, blinking very quickly, and said, a bit dumbly, "Okay."

Why did he look so dazed? Toris must have had him rather star-struck. Cute.

Ludwig just led Gilbert to the aisle directly beside them, where Gilbert was very much in Toris' sights, and pointed at a cart against the wall, stacked with boxes, full of books, the highest of which came very close to the ceiling. Not standard practice of course, but Ludwig was willing to risk his health and safety if it got Gilbert out of his hair in the end. Well—Gilbert's health and safety, that was, as he would be doing the work.

Gilbert eyed the boxes, lifted a brow, and said, "What? Too heavy for you? What do you even do over there in the corner in the gym?"

Funny.

Ignoring his own ego to better serve Gilbert's, Ludwig merely drawled, "Go on, then. Show me how it's done."

With a quick glance back at Toris, Gilbert set to work, taking the heavy boxes down one at a time, looking over between each one to see if Toris was watching him. Whenever he caught Toris glancing, Gilbert puffed out, flexed, and Ludwig could very much see that he was making the boxes look far heavier than they actually were.

What a jerk.

When the boxes were all on the floor and Gilbert was feeling undeservedly self-satisfied, Ludwig opened them up, and began organizing the books into piles according to shelf height.

Well...

He made a stack of books meant to go to the top shelf, grabbed a handful, and said, to bristling Gilbert, "Give me a boost?"

Gilbert looked over at Toris, saw Toris watching, and very quickly agreed. Naturally. Although Ludwig could certainly reach the top shelf with a stretch and a pop of his toes. But Toris actually cracked a smile when Gilbert locked his hands together for Ludwig to use them as a stepping stool, and for that Gilbert became incredibly bolstered.

Too bolstered.

As always, Ludwig got far in over his head with Gilbert, because in the end Gilbert really was just a twenty-eight-year-old kid. One smile from Toris was all it took, and suddenly, instead of locking his hands, Gilbert had tackled Ludwig and wrangled him, and the next thing dazed Ludwig knew he was sitting atop Gilbert's shoulders, as Gilbert held his leg in one hand and a book in the other.

Goddammit.

Ludwig was the one who felt like the little kid then, riding once more atop his big brother's shoulders. Not the worst feeling though, and he merely clung to Gilbert's neck for balance as Gilbert shifted enough to be able to look over at Toris.

Toris rolled his eyes, but it was clear from the book held up to hide his mouth that he was obviously smiling.

Gilbert handed Ludwig book after book, Ludwig put them away on the top shelf, and Gilbert was constantly throwing Ludwig off balance as he frequently twisted to see Toris.

They moved along the line, and when they reached the end of the shelf, Toris had suddenly stood up. Gilbert, jolted, whirled around to face him, took a pace forward, calling, "Hey! You leavin'?"

Gilbert, in his focus on Toris, walked Ludwig's face right into the sign hanging from the ceiling, very forcefully.

"Ow— _Gilbert_!"

Gilbert glanced up, saw Ludwig eating the sign, and looked mortified, more so when Toris started laughing. Gilbert knelt down, Ludwig slid off, rubbing crankily at his nose, and Gilbert ditched him in a second to dart over to Toris, who was gathering up his things.

"Coming back tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Toris replied, coolly, as he glanced frequently up at Gilbert, although he certainly was because his schedule never changed.

Toris didn't really make it easy for Gilbert, but that was what Gilbert clearly liked, because he was very willing to keep on chasing him. Whenever Toris walked away, Gilbert always stood there for a minute in his wake. As if he had found himself caught up in some daydream.

It was nice.

Ludwig began to throw himself more directly into this experiment, and that evening, when they were home, Ludwig marched up to Gilbert, and said, bravely, "I'm going to go out with Ivan. I might be late."

A twitch of Gilbert's hand, a snap of his head in Ludwig's direction, a parting of his lips, and it was clear that Gilbert was ready to rage.

A long, awful stare.

And then, suddenly, Gilbert said, instead of screaming, "Why the hell are you still seeing that ugly son of a bitch?"

Ludwig scoffed, and chided, "Rude!"

Ludwig stood his ground, emboldened by the fact that he was manipulating Gilbert behind the scenes without Gilbert even suspecting, and Gilbert stood up to stare him down.

"No."

"I'm going," Ludwig dared, voice trembling a bit despite his commanding stance. "I've already made plans."

Gilbert looked aghast and appalled at Ludwig's gall, and in the moment that Gilbert was frozen in shock, Ludwig turned and made for the door. His heart was thudding, waiting for the end result. Either Gilbert would rage, or he would fold.

"Ten," Gilbert suddenly said, as he marched forward and grabbed Ludwig's arm at the last second. "You hear me, Lutz? Ten o'clock, and you better be walking through the door. You're on curfew, kid. Don't make me come looking for you, because you know I will."

Utter elation, and that was pretty sad, but this was the best he could have really hoped for, that Gilbert was even letting him go out at all. Had honestly expected Gilbert to throw him over his shoulder like Ivan and go lock him up inside his room.

Ludwig nodded, and uttered, "Alright."

Gilbert watched him go down the street from the door, until Ludwig was out of sight.

Ludwig felt on top of the world.

A step in the right direction, and honestly Ludwig was astounded that he had even gotten this far. He really was. Toris must have been far too much on Gilbert's mind for him to really focus all of his anger and rage on Ivan.

The next day, Toris and Gilbert were at the table again, and Ludwig disobeying Gilbert the night before was entirely forgotten, as Gilbert smiled away cheerfully.

Toris smiled a little bit more every day.

Ivan came by the library that day, oblivious to Gilbert being there, but when he heard Gilbert's voice from the level above, Ivan had been very quick to duck out of sight, for Ludwig's sake. Ludwig, so bolstered and knowing that he was quickly gaining the upper hand, convinced Ivan to risk life and limb and walk up the stairs with him, using the excuse of putting Ivan to work by loading him down with an armful of books.

Ivan stood straight and tall, tensed up and ready for confrontation, and it was actually almost mechanical, the way Gilbert's head snapped over and found Ivan in a second. As if Gilbert had sensed him somehow. Maybe that was how Gilbert had hunted Ludwig down all those years—must have had some unholy sixth sense for any testosterone directed at his little brother.

His luck.

A long, awful stare, but Ludwig stayed very calm, very cool, and led Ivan over to the aisle, Ivan's eyes never once leaving Gilbert's. Toris looked back and forth between them, intrigued perhaps by Gilbert's look of horror and stance of aggression, but Ludwig began to serenely take the books one at a time from Ivan's huge arms, and Gilbert's bristles steadily fell as his gaze twitched over to Toris.

Ludwig waited, and he was right; Gilbert didn't cause a scene at all because Toris was there, and that was the first time that Gilbert and Ivan had stood face to face with zero altercations.

Ludwig's smirk was very strong when Gilbert finally refocused his attention on Toris completely, and Ivan's eyes settled at last on Ludwig.

Ivan leaned in, and whispered, "Well! That was fun! Thanks."

"My pleasure," Ludwig hissed back, and Ivan smiled shortly after, no doubt as pleased as Ludwig that they seemed to be making some progress.

He did hear Gilbert mutter to Toris, after Ivan had left, "—yeah, that's my brother's fuckin' _boyfriend_. I hate that guy, but, ah hell, guess there's no helping it—"

Better than nothing. Actually, that was quite positive, coming from Gilbert!

With every day that passed, Gilbert focused less and less on Ivan, and more and more on Toris. Pressure released. The noose was looser than ever. Ludwig felt the target on his back steadily fading. Gilbert found it harder to direct wrath at Ivan, when he was constantly looking at Toris.

Ivan saw the continuous lifting of Ludwig's mood, and seemed to lift right along with him.

Seeing Ivan always smiling and looking hopeful was wonderful, because he could see that Ivan was realizing he was coming closer and closer to no longer having to sneak around in shadows and live on alarms and timers.

A few days after Ivan and Gilbert had seen each other and no one had been punched, Ludwig got home, and saw Gilbert walking anxiously around here and there, between his bedroom and the bathroom. When Ludwig came over, he saw a stack of clothes on Gilbert's bed. Gilbert was pulling on shirt after shirt, running to the bathroom to observe himself, and then shaking his head and trying again.

Ludwig leaned against the staircase, arms crossed, and felt himself smirking.

Well, well, well. Had Gilbert finally scored a date with unbreakable Toris?

Gilbert glanced up, saw him standing there, and immediately put Ludwig to work as a consultant, asking his opinion of every single shirt. Ludwig tried his best to soothe Gilbert's nerves, because Gilbert, after all, hadn't been on a date in forever.

"How's this one look?" Gilbert anxiously asked, donning a burgundy button-down and looking a breath away from falling over.

"It looks nice," Ludwig dutifully said, and Gilbert waved a hand in the air.

"You'd say that no matter what!"

"So why are you asking?"

"I don't know!"

Gilbert went to the bathroom, ran fingers through his hair to brush it back and out of his forehead, and Ludwig went to the door, saying, sincerely, "Really! That one looks nice. It's a good color on you. Doesn't wash you out. Matches your eyes, too. Go for it."

Gilbert observed himself in the mirror, vain as he was, and finally sighed.

Ludwig glanced down, and offered, helpfully, "I think black pants might be better, though. And wear your good shoes."

Gilbert glanced over at him, and grumbled, "I haven't even told you what I'm doin' yet."

Ludwig lifted his brow and lidded his eyes, looking quite droll, and Gilbert shook him off.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright. How's my hair look?"

"A mess." Before Gilbert could panic, Ludwig added, "But that suits you very well. Don't look too formal, you'll scare him away."

A scoff, and then Gilbert grumbled, "Guess I have to listen to _you_ , since you're the date extraordinaire. How the hell do you get more dates than me, you beautiful bastard? I'm the handsome and charming one. You just stand there and don't say a word, and still you're like a flame to moths. You jerk."

Ludwig laughed a bit, as Gilbert tried to steady himself, and teased, "You ever think maybe you're _too_ handsome? People are intimidated to approach such an Adonis."

The undeserved boost of ego Gilbert needed to survive this night, and they teased each other for a long while before Gilbert was heading to the door.

But Ludwig did grab him by the arms at the last second, and say, very seriously, "Ten o'clock, Gilbert. Your curfew. Later than that and I'll hunt you down and ruin your entire night. You won't get a date with him ever again."

He wasn't being funny, either, and Gilbert knew it, because his brow came down a little and his eyes ran over Ludwig's face. A long stare, and then Gilbert appeared a little guilty, and looked away.

All Ludwig wanted, for Gilbert to imagine being on the other side.

Gilbert reached out, clapped Ludwig's shoulder, and managed to utter, gruffly, "Yeah. Right. I'm so— Hell. We'll talk when I get back, huh?"

Ludwig let Gilbert go, and nodded.

Hoped that he was finally getting through to Gilbert at long last.

Ludwig sat on the couch and flipped trough the television channels as he waited for Gilbert to come back. When that got boring, he called Ivan, and they chatted lowly as the sun set.

Surprisingly, Gilbert actually did come back at ten, but maybe that was only because he felt bad and didn't want to hurt Ludwig's feelings. Sometimes, Ludwig wondered how deeply it had cut Gilbert that time Ludwig had told him that he hated him. If that had more to do with Gilbert backing off from Ivan more than he had the rest.

Gilbert was red-faced when he came in, a bit drunk, but was smiling.

Good to see.

Ludwig lifted his chin as Gilbert came inside, and asked, "How did it go?"

"Great," Gilbert answered, as he stumbled over and plopped down beside Ludwig. "We had fun! But damn, can he drink! Put me under the table and didn't even start slurring."

Gilbert's arm was over his shoulder, and Ludwig's eyes ran over Gilbert's face as Gilbert struggled to maintain eye contact.

"What do you think? You like him? Are you gonna go on another date?"

Gilbert pulled Ludwig in, kissed his temple, and said, "I hope so. I like him a lot. Guess we both have a thing for jerks, huh?"

Ludwig snorted, and Gilbert pulled back a bit, face more serious.

"Hey. Listen. I know you're an adult, you know? It's not that I— I don't mean to treat ya like a little kid. I just worry so much about you. You're my little brother. I'm supposed to look out for you. I know maybe I take it a little too far, but... I just don't want anyone to ever make you cry."

It was going to hurt, but it was true, and it needed to be said, so Ludwig gathered his courage, and whispered, "The only one that's ever made me cry is you, Gilbert."

As expected, Gilbert's face fell and he turned his head back straight ahead, averting his gaze.

A long silence.

Then, finally, a deep, guttural murmur.

"I know. I didn't mean for it to be that way. I just—" A helpless scoff. "I don't know. I don't know what to say. I just want to know you're alright. I think maybe I'm just...afraid to let you go, you know? I like being the one to take care of you. I hate someone else doing it. It's stupid, I know. You can't be a little kid forever. I just wish you hadn't grown up."

Oh, Gilbert.

Ludwig reached out, forced Gilbert's head back over, and took his face in his hands.

Gilbert looked so _sad_ , suddenly, and Ludwig hated it.

"I love you. You'll always be my big brother, you know? It's not like you'll ever be replaced. You're my best friend."

Gilbert swallowed and blinked far too quickly, but played it off well, and gave a heavy sigh and he yanked Ludwig into an embrace.

"I know. I'm a jerk. I'm sorry. If you really like him that much, then, well... I'll try to get off your back. Really."

Ludwig clenched Gilbert for all he was worth, and said, simply, "Thank you."

All he had ever wanted.

Gilbert pulled back a bit later, when he had properly composed himself, and added, in warning, "But I'm still always watching! If he ever fucks up, he's dead! Just tell me if he steps out of line, alright? I ever see you crying, he's a goner."

Ludwig laughed, and kissed Gilbert's forehead.

It was the thought that counted, because both of them were very fully aware that Ivan would make very short work of Gilbert, for all of him.

Ludwig lied in bed that night, arms crossed behind his head, and smiled up at the ceiling.

Felt as if a new life had started.

It was wondrous, but also a bit sad.

Ludwig couldn't help but think back and wonder. Thinking about where he would be this very moment, had he ever been assertive and proactive prior to Ivan. If he had ever given a real, determined effort.

Would he be with Feliciano still, sailing about the coast of Italy? Would he have somehow managed to pin down Magnus, and turn a player into a settled man? Would he have been standing by Berwald's side, keeping Berwald's chin up and enjoying quiet nights together? Would have he found his adventurous side with Abel, and wound up on the summit of K2 or some such?

Possibilities.

It didn't matter, because the present was all he could ever work with, and he was with Ivan. He was happy with that.

The next month was amazing.

Ludwig felt free at last, able to come and go as he pleased, and Ivan was so bright. Gilbert, too, as he and Toris went on date after date and didn't show any signs of stopping.

And then, suddenly, the best day of Ludwig's life :

Gilbert came up to him, slapped his back, and said, "Hey! Let's double-date tonight. Whaddya say?"

Ludwig stared at Gilbert in breathless shock, mouth open and eyes wide, and Gilbert snorted at his expression, jostling him again for an answer.

"Eh? Come on! It'll be fun. We'll go out to eat, and then we'll go get hammered. Well, you and _me_ can get hammered. I can't afford to get Toris drunk, way he drinks, and your damn Russian tank would need a fuckin' barrel of beer to get buzzed. Come on! Let's have _fun_."

Unbelievable.

Was so certain that he was unconscious somewhere, had had some kind of accident and was having weird hospital dreams.

Had never been so speechless, and Gilbert actually reached out and smacked his mouth shut.

That woke Ludwig up, and he sputtered, far too eagerly, "Okay! Yeah, sounds great!"

"Good."

Gilbert's way of making peace, perhaps.

It worked, was damn good enough for Ludwig. Didn't erase anything that had happened, but it was astounding how far they had come, so Ludwig would never turn it down.

He immediately called Ivan, and relayed to him what the hell had just happened. Ivan seemed just as flabbergasted, and more than a bit anxious. Couldn't blame him, really, but Ivan of course agreed.

He scampered off to Ivan's house shortly after, as Gilbert went to collect Toris.

Ivan opened the door for him, urgently pulled him in, and asked, hectically, "Does this shirt look stupid?"

Ludwig observed Ivan, and saw no real discernible difference in his appearance. He just had on a button-down this time, tucked into his slacks, and was wearing a tie. Taking things a bit too seriously, but then, it really was in a sense the first time Ivan would be meeting Ludwig's family in a normal way, so no doubt he felt pressured.

Ludwig smiled, tilted his head, and teased, to soothe Ivan's nerves, "It looks nice! Too nice. I think if you really want to make a good impression, you should wear Gilbert's jersey. He'll love you after that."

Dramatically, Ivan loosened his tie, pulled it off, and cried, "I'd rather die!"

Ludwig fought off his laughter, only partially successful, and Ivan finally heaved a sigh and just pulled on a wife-beater instead. A grand step down, but perhaps Ivan just wanted his biceps on full display in the case that Gilbert changed his mind and became belligerent.

They were off then, and Ludwig's heart was racing.

Poor Ivan must have been so nervous in a way, knowing that everything could go wrong with one false step, volatile as both he and Gilbert were. Ludwig was nervous, too, but in a wonderful way. Excited, so excited, and he wasn't worried at all because he knew Gilbert well enough to understand how big a step this was.

Gilbert would never blow this.

It was the most wonderfully surreal and satisfying moment of Ludwig's life, to go on a double-date with his brother. God! To think that phrase would ever even form in his head. It was nothing short of miraculous, truly, and Ludwig could scarcely believe it was happening.

Was so sure that he was actually dreaming.

But then they were all there together in front of the restaurant, and Gilbert was holding the door open for Toris and impatiently waiting for Ludwig to scurry through.

What a feeling!

It was a small place, meant to be intimate, and the tables were set for two. Just fine for them, and just what they wanted. They sat beside each other, in sight and earshot, arm's reach, and yet still having that bit of solitude to construct their own dates.

They could get more involved later on at the bar.

Ivan and Gilbert glanced very often at each other, and sometimes they attempted to make tentative conversation. Toris and Ivan, on the other hand, noticed each other immediately, and Ivan had instantly asked if Toris spoke Russian. He did, to everyone's surprise, but then, it would have been Ivan of course to pinpoint that. Ludwig had known Toris was Eastern, but had never asked.

Gilbert looked rather odd, and perhaps that was because he finally had to accept that Ivan wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, now that his own boyfriend had hit it off with Ivan in such a way.

Ludwig was going to combust from happiness any moment, he knew it.

Dinner was going wonderfully, at their separate tables and yet feeling so connected. Ivan rested his chin in his palm, and smiled at Ludwig, so tranquilly. So prettily. Loved those moments when arrogant Ivan looked so peaceful.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Ludwig heard Toris murmur, "And just imagine. I was ready to think you were the worst sort of man until you sent me those flowers. How close I was to missing out."

Ludwig's eyes shot wide open, he bristled in alarm, and lifted his shoulders.

Oh shit—!

Gilbert's scoff, a crinkle of his brow in confusion as he replied, "Flowers? I never sent you flowers."

Ivan waved a hand in front of Ludwig's face at his look, apparently thinking he had lost Ludwig to outer space. Yeah, he had, but he was about to lose Ludwig to Gilbert's wrath in about fifteen seconds.

Toris was the one who looked quite confused.

"Did you forget? Those flowers you left at the library, with the note? Asking me to come watch you play that first time? Remember? You gave me the damn ticket."

A long, long silence.

And then Gilbert suddenly shrieked, in that booming voice, " _LUDWIG_!"

The entire restaurant jumped in a fright.

Ludwig snatched out, grabbed Ivan's shirt, and dragged him upright, bolting as fast as he could to the door, Ivan on his heels, and Ivan didn't know _why_ the hell they were running but he sprinted anyway, as Gilbert chased furiously after them to the door. They quite literally skidded out onto the street, Ludwig clinging to Ivan's hand and dragging him.

Gilbert grabbed the doorframe, screeching after Ludwig as they ran as fast as they could, and when they were at the end of the street, Ludwig turned around long enough to cry back, "Pay our bill! I'll give you the money tomorrow!"

Gilbert's wrathful shrieks died down when they disappeared into the city.

They ran for a good long while, until heavy Ivan became too winded and slowed down to a jog, and then to a halt entirely. He doubled over, gasping for air, as Ludwig rested his hands on his knees and looked over his shoulder.

Gilbert was long gone, assuming he had bothered to follow them at all.

Ivan, huffing and panting and dripping sweat, stood up straight, winced, and asked, breathlessly, "What the hell was _that_ all about?"

Ludwig didn't answer at first, struggling to catch his breath, and when he finally straightened up, all Ludwig could really do was start laughing.

Ivan stared at him as if he had fallen entirely off his rocker.

A long minute of cackling, and when Ludwig caught his breath, he grabbed Ivan's collar, yanked him in, and kissed him. When he pulled back, he patted wide-eyed Ivan's cheek, and just said, "I lived _too_ dangerously. I think we're on the run for the rest of the night."

Ivan gawked at him, looked around, and sighed.

"Well! Guess we better run all the way to my house."

They set off, Ludwig giggling from time to time, and several minutes later, Ivan asked, hopefully, "So, now that you're a fugitive, maybe I can persuade you to, ah, come live with me?"

Ludwig felt the rush of adrenaline, and sensed everything at last falling perfectly together. Gilbert had his man, and, for that, at long last so too did Ludwig. This time, no fear, and no more fretting. Wouldn't lose him this time. Gilbert and Ludwig finally understood each other.

Ludwig glanced at Ivan, and said, "Ah! You read my mind!"

Ivan's beautiful smile.

Life was _really_ strange sometimes.


End file.
